Pictures On The Wall
by 8DRainbowManVan8D
Summary: Constantly, I watched him. Why couldn't he see that I loved him more than anyone else ever could? But, I have his pictures on my wall, for me and me alone. He was my angel, my darkest secret and my greatest treasure. My paradise and my hell.


This is a one shot. I like writing horror and tragedy and romance. This is a tragedy/horror, so that means there will be NO HAPPY ENDING.

Warnings! Slight language, disturbing imagery(it's not that bad)

.:.~O3O~.:.

~.:. Pictures On The Wall.:.~

I stand there, looking through my window, watching; waiting; seeking him out. I rub at the dirt and grime obscuring my view. Where is he? My mind panics, horrifying scenarios playing through my head. Was he hurt? Did he forget something? Did he oversleep? Was he dead? Raped? Murdered?

Oh god, if he was dead, I'd lose my mind. I cover my mouth as sickness rises up my throat, choking me with its iron fist, fear pummeling my stomach, my eyes squinted shut. I couldn't live without him, I know I couldn't. Don't even consider it. I rest my sweat covered forehead against the streaked window, the ghastly heat making my throat parched. I open my eyes, the haze making the world spin. Again, I swallow thickly, the muscles of my throat contracting, sore from lack of use and hydration.

I needed to see him. I'd go mad if I didn't see him. Every day he passes by here, walking swiftly towards his job. I see him again walking home, eight hours later, but not today. Today he's late. So late, I feel antsy. I run a shaking hand through my blue, sweat slicked locks. I start pacing, trying to fool myself into thinking he'd be there any minute. My eyes kept turning to the window every second, each one feeling like an eternity.

I want to go to the bathroom, to rest my aching legs, to get a drink, to take a shower but I'm so scared I'll miss him. I can't _ever_ miss him. I won't allow myself to do so, won't forgive myself if I do. He was the highlight of my day; my life; my _everything_.

Then, it was as if my silent prayers were answered. Coming up the hill, a halo of orange. My face is plastered to the window, my fingers digging against it, twitching with excitement. My heart races with anticipation and I feel light headed with my fast breathing. I see his beautiful brown eyes; his gorgeous nose; his adorable lips; his mesmerizing jaw. What strikes me as odd, though, is that his scowl is nowhere to be seen. At first, that amazing, rare smile filled me with joy, uproarious joy. My eyes shifted to his left, and icy chills of dread shot down my spine.

There was a young woman, a beautiful, gorgeous young woman; her slender face laughing and smiling, her light brown hair bouncing, her hand clenching his. To my petrifying dismay, he was holding it too, his smile turned towards hers. My breathing quickened, horrible fright clenching my gut, betrayal crushing my heart.

My fingers twitched, clenching tighter against the glass, white knuckled fists. Blinding anger seeped into my blood, adrenaline pumping. That little witch! Who was she? I glared daggers into her angelic face, wishing hell fire upon her soul. Her brown eyes looking up at my angel with loving glances.

I felt sick. I could feel my stomach churning and the bile rising. His eyes turned from her and glanced in my direction, his face contemplative. My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met, though I knew he couldn't see me. She tugged on his arm and his eyes left mine. I couldn't watch any more.

I ran, shoving things out of my way and crashed to my knees before the toilet. Sickness poured from my mouth, splashing into the water, sickening sounds of half digested food submerging. The smell made me gag and heave more. My fingers were clutching desperately at the seat rim, elbows shaking.

With a wet gasp, I pulled away and slumped to the floor, drained. My gorgeous angel had moved on. He had found someone worth his time, never to glance my way again. My heart raced in painful thumps, I clenched at it, heart break pulsing through my veins. What a cruel day, oh how vicious.

He was the man of my dreams, and he was no longer mine. I stood up shakily, leaving the room still a mess. My fingers ran along the walls quietly. I stalked through the rooms, turning down the hallways and circling round and round. I stopped at the _door_. I stared at it, hands shaking.

It was my darkest secret and closest treasure. It was my paradise and my torment, my own personal hell. I turned the knob and stepped inside, inhaling the musty sent of dust. I flicked on the light, flickering, flickering. My eyes roamed slowly, taking it all in. Joy and anguish filled my soul.

I moved over to the right corner, running my fingers against the wall. Photographs caught in my path flicked up as I gently passed over them. My eyes searched them slowly. I smiled, looking at the person within them. His scowl was beautiful, almost in every photo, his stances varying. In most he was in his sexy blue uniform, walking briskly, forever frozen for my eyes.

I leaned against my biggest photo, hands roaming down his chest, imagining the feel of his hot skin, the smoothness of his uniform. My lips brush against his and my entire body presses against the wall, my breaths coming in gasps, blood rushing south and burning my skin. I part my lips, gasping for more air, never quite getting enough.

The haze around me thickens as the room becomes hotter. I rub my body against his photo, my fingers clenching and grasping desperately for any purchase, wishing for his shoulders. I lick his lips, pleasure coursing through me, my breath shaking in my lungs.

My mind runs wild, imagining everything I've always wanted to do with him; everything I've ever wanted to enjoy. My eyes are squinted shut, my hips thrust faster against him. I can feel his moans vibrating against my chest. I gasp and my fingers clench, sweat streaming down my face. The edge is near, I can feel it coiling tighter.

I open my eyes, and the spell is lost. He's not there. It's not him, never was. An angry sob escapes my throat as I lean defeated against the wall. My gasps slow down, my body cooling from the cruel ice reality tossed onto me. I stare into his unblinking eyes, wishing I could see the light glitter in them.

My heart aches, I feel it twist and contort. I couldn't even hold the man I loved, and he didn't even want me. He had that stupid woman hanging on his arm. I bit my knuckle, eyes shut tight in anger and desolation. I couldn't watch him walk by again with her by his side and not me. I couldn't bear to watch his smile turned to someone else, passing me by. I couldn't bear to simply stay in the background and let him slip through my grasp.

That means I can never watch him again, the fear of seeing her with him cowing me into submission. I'd go mad seeing her! But that means I can't watch him again. And if I can't watch him, I'd still go mad. My eyes drooped with exhaustion, my body slumped in defeat. I was trapped, cornered, lost.

I didn't want to go mad, I loved him too much to give him up but I knew I couldn't have him. With quiet resolution, I wandered out of the room, my eyes unseeing. I could no longer feel the heat, cold seeping into my aching bones. I swallow dryly, my tongue sticking to the roof of my mouth. I grab my keys, and go to another door, stuck in the key, and unlocked it. I shut it behind me, locking it again.

I turned and stared upwards, through the dark, and past the stairs. I climbed them slowly, each creak louder than the last, longer, more depressing. I could feel their sorrow, my sorrow seeping through my feet and into their splinters. I carried on, body like lead. As I drew near the top, dull light streaked here and there, dirty windows down the hallway piercing the dark. I stared at the dust floating about, wishing I was so care free.

The hallway was so long, I walked along it for lifetimes, the end seeming to always stretch right out of my reach. I felt dead by the time I grasped its knob, my hands shaking, skin pale. I coughed through the haze, my body shivering. I opened the door and sighed. Relief filled my lungs and I walked in.

I looked to my bed and sat down, my aching back and feet relaxing. I laid back, my head against my pillow. I was so tired, I wheezed air in and out of my lungs, wet rasping filling the air. My legs were heavy weights, I couldn't move them. My arms, tingled and my head spun. I coughed again.

Turning onto my side, I stared into the eyes of my angel, the picture frame a dazzling red. I sighed, contentedly, tiredly. So tired. With sheer determination, I reached out for the picture, hands and arms shaking with strain. Elation flooded me as my fingers wrapped around it in a loving caress.

I pulled it to my chest slowly, arms twisting around it in a loose embrace. My nose snuggled into its edge and I sighed weakly. My body felt so weak, so cold, so drained. But, at least I had him with me.

A smile tugged my lips, "May I dream sweet dreams of you," a ghost of a whisper. My throat ached I smiled more, "May we meet some day, my beautiful angel."

My eyelids drooped, my smile eased slightly, my embrace loosened. Tears strolled down my face as the world turned dark.

Aaahh…. Sweet bliss…

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

"Hey, Ichigo!"

The red headed man turned towards his friend, calling him out and waving. He smiled and briskly walked over to join him.

"Sorry I'm so late today Renji, Yuzu needed me to walk her to her friend's house." Ichigo shook his head fondly. Renji waved him off.

"It's fine." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "We got a call earlier, from a house not too far from here. The lady was complaining about the smell coming from her neighbor's house."

Renji scratched the back of his head, grimacing. "According to her, it's pretty damn disgusting. She said she hadn't seen the guy that lives there in a long time. Seems like we got ourselves a hermit."

Ichigo nodded. "Sounds like fun. When we headin' out?"

Renji smirked, "Right now. Get your shit and let's go." Ichigo clapped his hands together and walked off to grab his gun. Never too safe, you know? He quickly joined Renji and they both hopped into their squad car, Renji driving.

They sat in silence, hurrying to their destination. As they pulled into the driveway, Ichigo stared out the window at the house.

"Hey, I know this place. Walk by it every day on my way to and from work."

Renji glanced through the windshield at it. "That so? Well, yer about to be in it."

They both got out of the car and stepped up to the door. Grimaces encompassed their faces as they approached. It smelt so terrible. They knocked loudly, Ichigo pulling a handkerchief around his nose and mouth, holding it there. Renji knocked again.

"Hello! This is the Karakura police! Open up!" Nothing responded and he knocked again. "Police! Open up!"

With only silence still greeting them, Renji growled and they both pulled out their guns. He took a step back, lifted his leg, and kicked in the door. They both stepped inside looking about, scanning the room. Instantly, a musty and decrepit smell surrounded them. They gagged, cursing and stumbling about. Renji yanked desperately at his handkerchief, wrapping it around his face sloppily, his eyes watering.

How could a person live in this place? Ichigo slowly walked into the next room, gun aimed in front of him, scanning the yellow stained walls, the windows covered in grime, the mold and mildew growing in the corners, running up the wall. He looked at the ceiling, water stains splattered about, cobwebs full of spider carcasses and empty egg sacks hanging everywhere. Did someone even live here?

He stepped into the hallway, another smell permeating his senses. He walked down it, the floor creaking. The smell became stronger and he turned to an open door, flicked the light on. Yellow tile greeted him, orange moss growing on the shower curtain, black mold in the mortar. He scrunched his nose as he stepped in, looking to the toilet.

Glancing inside, he quickly ran out of the room gagging. There was puke swirled around in the water. It must have been sitting there for quite a while because the heavier, less digested pieces of food had sunk to the bottom of the bowl. With horror, he stepped away from the bathroom, randomly turning corners, trying to escape.

He paused when a door caught his eye. Turning towards it, he tried to twist the knob to no luck. It was locked. He blew a puff of air from his mouth and kicked it in, the door snapping from its hinges, falling to the ground with a loud bang. He coughed and waved his hand in front of his face as dust strewed about in the air, eyes squinting to see. It was pitch as black and he felt around blindly for a light switch. Finding it, he flicked it on and stared up the stairs.

He knew he should be searching for the person but something about this stairway made him nervous, scared even, as if he didn't want to see what was at the end. With trepidation, he began the climb up. The steps squeaked with each movement, filling him with fear and sorrow. Why did he feel this way? Each step felt more painful than the last, their creaks sounding awfully similar to cries of anguish.

When he reached the top, he felt drained, tired and wary. He stared down the hallway, a dark chasm with light streaking through here and there. Dust floated about and he could make out the lining of an open door at the end of it all. Ichigo began his trek, eyes shifting, gun forgotten in his loose hand. The hallway stretched on forever, twisting and turning his perception, teasing his mind.

By the time he reached the room, he was a mess of jumpy nerves, his mind conjuring up frightening scenarios. What could possibly be in that room? Swallowing his fear, he stepped inside, glancing about, taking in that it was in fact a bedroom. He stepped over to the switch and flipped the lights on. Immediately, his eyes were drawn to a shock of blue.

Ichigo turned towards it and stepped over to the deathly pale man. His clothes were stained with sweat, his hair slick with it, and it reeked. It reeked of excretion and death. Ichigo gagged and turned his head away from the obviously dead man. He bent over, grasping his knees, fighting for equilibrium within his stomach. He squinted through the tears at the man, inching towards him.

Ichigo peeked over the man's shoulder, down at his chest. He was holding a picture to his chest. He couldn't see what the picture was of and he didn't have a strong enough stomach to attempt touching the corpse. Whatever it was, he could tell that the man had loved it dearly. He studied the body. The man had obviously been sick for a while before he died.

Ichigo would have to call the department about this. He set down his gun, hand still holding his handkerchief to his mouth, and fumbled around in his pocket for his cell phone.

"Ichigo! You might really wanna get yer ass down here," Renji's voice carried from all the way down stairs. Ichigo looked to the open doorway, and began walking back down to the ground floor, phone to his ear. He could hear it dialing as he trumped around to the living room. He glanced about for his partner, stopping when he saw a grim looking Renji waving him over.

The phone picked up and a female called out, "Karakura police department, how may I help you."

Ichigo opened his mouth to answer but stopped short. He stood there in the doorway to the room, the light flickering, flickering. The blood pulled from his face and he dropped the phone. He looked about the room slowly with wide eyes, Renji watching him silently. The woman on the phone called out hello again and again.

Ichigo shakily stumbled into the room, circling faster and faster, the air pushing in and out of his lungs quicker and quicker. He stumbled and grabbed onto the wall but pulled his hand away quickly as if he'd been burned.

"Wuh-What the hell?" His voice shook with fear and shock, icy tendrils of it shooting down his spine making his blood cold and his skin pale. Everywhere. _Everywhere_ there were pictures. Pictures on the walls, photos taped up in random chaos. Everywhere they hung. Thousands of them. Every single one stabbing fear deeper into his soul. He shakily covered his mouth with his hand.

They were all of him.

.:.~End of Pictures On The Wall~.:.

Okay so, I really wanted to write a one shot and a tragedy/horror one too. Of course, not your usual horror but hey! I enjoyed it. I enjoyed writing this and I hope you all enjoy reading it.

This was my first one shot and it's super short compared to my usual chapter lengths. I thought this one would be nicer in a smaller dose than 5000 words of that. I don't know about you but I don't think I could handle reading it. Plus, the story seemed to flow this way much better and I'm happy with it.

Obviously, Ichigo's stalker was Grimmjow. They didn't even know each other and Grimmjow didn't even know Ichigo's name. I thought it was different from most stories and I would like reading this. 8) as I so stated earlier. And obviously Grimmjow was quite out of character, I wanted him to be crazy and such. So bite me if you don't like it.

But anyway, I will be updating Workin' Hard And Hardly Workin' soon, and get this, I will be updating Love Ya Anyways too! Woohoo! Bunch of updates!

LOVE YA GUYS! UNTIL NEXT TIME! 8D

~8DRainbowManVan8D


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